


Wearing Your Heart on Your Skin

by joy_kill



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joy_kill/pseuds/joy_kill
Summary: Some people have soulmates, some don't. Sometimes it's easy to find yours, sometimes they have to commit multiple crimes to cross the ocean while being hunted down by an ancient evil.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long, Elm Ederne/Vine Zeki, Lie Ren/Nora Valkyrie, Oscar Pine/Whitley Schnee, Penny Polendina/Ruby Rose, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi, Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	Wearing Your Heart on Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfic I've written in 2 or 3 years, and the first RWBY fanfic I've ever written. Updates will be random probably. Please be nice to me. Or don't. It's up to you honestly. Thank you to my beta reader for putting up with my bullshit-

I’d heard of soulmates ever since I was young. Rumors and stories spread easily among kids, so I’ve heard numerous renditions more than once. I’ve never been quite sure how to ever feel about them though. All of the girls I knew growing up were so hopeful and enthralled with the idea of being fated to meet someone and love them for their entire life. All the boys I knew growing up said they thought it was stupid, but it was obvious they liked it too. It’s common for little kids to doodle on their arms to see if that one special kid in their class would end up with the same marks. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But normal kids rarely know better.

Mother doesn’t talk to me much, but I remember how she’d scold me if I came home as a child with any markings on my arms. ‘They’re just fairytales, Whitley. They don’t exist, and never will.’ she’d say some days. Other days, it was ‘Not everyone has a soulmate. Don’t waste your time. You’ll just be disappointed.’ Other days, ‘Whitley, I don’t feel like talking right now.’ Maybe there’s some truth in some of the things she says. I’ve never seen any marks or writing on my oldest sister’s skin. But then again that could just be because I don’t remember much of her. I’ve seen glimpses of words and scribbles on Weiss’s arms, but it’s easy to hide things like those when you wear sleeves as long as she does.

I’ve never gotten anything. I used to be worried that I’d never get anything, but I didn’t realize back then how that was for the better. Teachers and tutors would scold me for writing on myself. Mother would scold me if she had the time and wasn’t too drunk. Father would scold me and remind me of who I was. A Schnee. And Schnees don’t have time for stupid, frivilous things like soulmates. We’re just too important to care about such a childish dream.

Which is why when I saw the phrase ‘Hello?’ written on my palm, in handwriting I didn’t recognize, I almost died. Well, not literally. But you get my point. The word was small, and messy. Either the person who wrote it had terrible handwriting, or they weren’t in a stable place to write. Or both. Honestly it looks like both. Or it wasn’t even part of that whole set of varied stories. I just stared at it, wondering if I was just imagining it or not. Maybe I’d written on myself instead of my paper when I was up late the night before studying. … But why would I write ‘Hello?’? And my handwriting doesn’t look anything like this, even if I’m tired. Maybe Weiss had snuck into my room and did it. Ever since she got back from Beacon she’s been more upfront with how much she dislikes me. I wouldn’t put it past her to try some cheap trick like this. She hated me, and I hated her, so naturally, this was probably just her doing. I can’t have a single moment of peace in this house. I hate it.

I sighed and scooted to the side of the piano bench before standing up. I hated the sound it made when it screeched against the cold floor, so I always avoided making the sound as best I could. I’d say it was worse than listening to my footsteps echo through the large hallways, but some days I’m not quite sure which I hate more. The fact the nearest bathroom was all the way down the hallway and down a set of stairs made it worse. At least carpet makes me sound quieter than hard marble does.

I opened the door, and let it close behind me as I turned the lights on. I walked over to the sink, not caring enough to look at myself in the mirror for more than a few seconds. I knew what I looked like. I didn’t need unnecessary reminders. So on went the faucet, to the perfect temperature I’d memorized easily years ago for this type of thing. Ink wasn’t that hard to get off skin. You just needed warm water and some soap. So that’s what I got, and I started scrubbing.

And scrubbing.  
And scrubbing.  
And scrubbing and scrubbing and- Why isn’t it budging? It should’ve at least smudged by now. I can see my fingertips starting to prune. The ink should be gone by now. What in the hell kind of stupid prank is this??

“God-” I took a deep breath in, turning the faucet off and putting my hands on the counter around the sink, gripping the ends so hard my knuckles turned white. This isn’t that serious. I’m overreacting. If Father saw me right now, he’d say the same. I just know it. I sighed, releasing the breath I’d been holding and forcing my jaw to unclench. I’ll go confront Weiss about this. Surely she’ll give me a direct answer. I’m not losing my mind. I know it.

I dried my hands off as thoroughly as I could, checking my palm for a moment. The writing was still there. Untouched. Just to spite me.

I turned my attention to my reflection, making sure I looked presentable before I left the room. If Weiss was behind this, like I just knew she was, I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me upset over something so stupid.  
So unimportant.


End file.
